


Polarities (It's What They Call Themselves)

by Without_Bounds



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Drabble Collection, Drama, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, Freeform, Gen, I promise, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, My First Work in This Fandom, Not Beta Read, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Speed Force, and all related Shenanigans, but it will get more gay, i cant believe i spelt that right the first time, it's only kinda gay, more about this universe will be revealed as time goes on, sorta - Freeform, thats also a promise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-09-25
Packaged: 2019-03-08 01:04:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Without_Bounds/pseuds/Without_Bounds
Summary: The Speed Force never intended for them to be enemies.They made that choice all on their own.. . . . .A series of one-shots set around the idea that the Flash and his Reverse are simultaneously opposites and two halves of a whole, each calling out to the other through their battered connection. What happens is chaos, and unwelcome guests at unwelcome times.And Barry's only half convinced he's not hallucinating.





	1. Mirage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is set around the time of Season 1 Episode 16 "Rouge Time" (the aftermath of the episode with that tsunami) so it's a bit of a throwback. 
> 
> This hasn't been beta read so please let me know if there's any room to improve or any mistakes!

The first time Barry saw his other was three days after he saw the speed mirage, three days after travelling through time, and three days after he kissed-Iris-but-not-really.

He’d been running home. The day had been long and hard, but then again, most days were. But it definitely didn’t help that Barry still felt an aching loneliness after having Iris ripped away from him because of one mistake. To top it all off, despite Caitlin’s explanation for his actions, the two of them - three of them, if you included Eddie - were still on thin ice... And Barry still felt like he’d robbed himself.

Later he'd describe the appearance of his other as sudden, but really, it wasn't. In fact, it had been soft and trance-like. It had left Barry speechless.  They'd appeared beside him, flickering in like a candle sparking to life. Next to him, running next to him, was a golden being draped in red lightning, shining like a newborn sun. A human fire, and they were divine there, moving beside him.

It was strange, seeing another form next to him, so translucent it was barely there. He’d thought it was another mirage at first, but it couldn’t be... The moment had been celestial, and for a time, they ran together. Moving in unison, his companion seemed just a curious about Barry as he was of it. Time began to ooze and drip between the two speedsters, dragging to a standstill. He reached out to touch, and something humming deep in his bones pressed itself against his ear and whispered;

_My Champion,_

_My Champion, who is good and true and right, **listen**._

He wished he could remember what it said next.

The second time Barry saw the glittering speedster he talked to Dr. Wells about it. With it happening twice, he couldn’t pass the vision off as a figment of the night, or an aftertaste of the adrenaline. The confession came in limping; a broken and uncertain thing that could barely be called a description of the events. He still wasn’t entirely convinced those moments had been real. But Wells understood, as always, and his confidant had an answer.

“And you said this man was running alongside you? Matching your pace?”

“ _Yes_ ,” he stressed the word, carding a hand through his hair before throwing himself around to face the older man. His eyes were pleading, desperate, and Harrison’s expression seemed to soften at the realization of just how scared The Flash was.

It didn’t stop him from taking a moment to lean forward in his chair, fiddling with something in his hands. Behind his glasses, the man’s eyes were contemplative, “So that means they were - are - a speedster,” Barry perked up at that, he could sense the scientist was onto something, “And if they are… then they must be connected to the Speed Force, same as you. So what might be happening, Mr. Allen, is that this mutual bond is somehow connecting you when you run. You’re seeing what could be called a reverse speed mirage. But instead of seeing yourself when you run at a certain speed -"

“I see my other.” At that, a strange smile to creep across Dr. Wells’ face. It only further confused the speedster. Groaning, the younger man scrubbed his face, moving to pace the floor again.

“Indeed,” Dr. Wells had an impossible patience for the antsy speedster, and went on calmly, as if seeing strangers appearing beside you was a perfectly normal fact of life, “Whether or not it only happens while running is something we’ll have to check, and it should also be taken into account that the speed at which you’re moving may have some influence as-”

“No offence," Was he irritable today? "But I really couldn’t care less about why it’s happening. I just want to know how to stop it. I can’t be distracted mid-fight by some random guy suddenly sitting right beside me - a second of my attention away from the fight and people could die.” The younger man huffed, “So if you’ve got any ideas on that I’d love to hear them.”

“I’m afraid that I won’t be able to help you with that quite yet." Harrison paused, as if disappointed he couldn't help more, "And even with the help of the others, it might take months to even properly understand all the science behind this and…” Harrison trailed off, noticing how dark Barry’s face had suddenly gone, “Do you not want to tell the rest of the team about this?”

The speedster sighed angrily, looking away from his mentor. He didn’t quite understand the sudden possessiveness that had flared within him at the idea of telling anyone else. Barry kept his mouth shut about it anyway, opting to cross his arms instead. “No… Let’s keep this between us.”

“Well then,” Harrison shook his head lightly, and for a second he was terrified his mentor would be angry, “If you ever want to come by the lab after hours to run some tests, you know where to find me.” the older man looked up at his partner through his glasses, something like a fond mischief glinting in the doctor’s eyes. Barry only nodded stiffly, uncrossing his arms slowly, and gingerly unclenching his fists before he went to leave.

“Oh, one last thing Mr. Allen,” he turned his head to look at Dr. Wells, one foot out the door. There was an unfamiliar tone in the man’s voice, “When did we start calling this apparition _your_ other?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take requests/suggestions for this au!


	2. Liar, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the reveal, when Thawne was being held in the particle accelerator. I'd like to imagine this happened during those scenes where Barry, eerily calm with barely restrained anger, comes down to interrogate our time traveller.
> 
> Much shorter than the other chapter and once again unbeta'd so please tell me if there are any mistakes!

“How much were you lying about.”

It wasn’t really a question. A question implies that one party is being requested of a thing and that the other is doing the asking hoping the one being asked follows through. But this was a demand. As in, this was not, in the slightest, up for debate. He was getting an answer. Barry’s indignation was burning too bright for anything else, and betrayal was carved into the forefront of his mind like a fresh wound and it throbbed with a rage so vivid it was alive.

There was something special about having his mentor admit to it - to being his mother’s murderer. It was worse than just suspecting it. When it was mere intuition, he could pretend. Dance the same dance he’d done the whole year and slip into the role of Mr. Allen easy as anything. But now...

He **hated** The Man In Yellow.

“All of it.”

He _loved_ Doctor Harrison Wells.

((Something in him, familiar, foreign, pressed an idea into his mind the way it would press a coin into a beggar's hand; firm but gentle. It insisted the two feelings were not mutually exclusive. The speedster ignored it.))

The differences between Eobard Thawne and Harrison Wells were startling. Now, there was confidence where there had once been caution. Edges where there had once been curves. Teeth where there had once been a smile. Fury, raw and barely-contained, snapped like lightning beneath the younger man’s skin. 

Was the elder man’s newfound smugness part of those changes or was Barry just blind to it until now? When he was dissecting the elder's every move?

No matter, there was no time to dwell on those. Not now. He needed answers. Proper ones.

“Even about…” the younger man made a disgruntled, sweeping motion, “This?”

Thawne wasn’t stupid enough to not know what he meant. The inlaid connection between them went two ways, even with the other’s crippled speed. Barry still felt like an idiot for not realizing his romanticised ‘golden entity’ had been his tormentor.

“ _That_ was a half-truth, nothing more.” and the bastard’s face twitched into a mirthless smile before he continued, “If what I’d told you was completely true then you’d be overwhelmed by the number people you saw. Because you’d be connected to every speedster in all of history - and there’s been more than a few!” Eobard turned away for a moment, rubbing at the spot his glasses once were, and chuckling at some private joke.

“Let's just say some were more familiar than other, hmm? But that's irrelevant. Because we're different, aren't we?" Thawne moved again, this time his back facing Barry as he pulled hands through his hair, sighing. An air of vulnerability settled in the conversation, and Barry suddenly felt as if he was overstepping a boundary. "Don't tell me you can't feel it," the words were spoken with a quiet reverence, "The way our speeds spike when we're together, and how our Speed Force seems to _sing_ at even the slightest touch." Thawne whipped around and was suddenly  _very_ close to the glass. "You never did like that aspect of it..." As he trailed off, a predatory glint became apparent in those blue eyes. Caution began to rise in Barry. "No. What we are... are  _Polarities_.” Meaning settled on the last word like the dewfall, and their eyes met. The gaze held, unwavering, a silent challenge to see who would break first. Something unspoken crackled in the air between them.

Barry flinched away from his other's stare, and marked himself the loser of their little game. A whine settled in his soul.

Nothing was said.

And then;

“There’s a reason I called myself the _Reverse Flash_ , Mr. Allen.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I take requests/suggestions for this au!


	3. For Eobard,

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wanted to explore Eo's side of the coin this time, let me know what you think!

For Eobard Thawne, His Other had always been a part of life 

Because he was three when he pointed at an empty corner of space and said: “Fire man” with all the insistence a toddler could muster.

Because at age seven he played “by himself” in the forest behind the family’s summer home, despite being constantly told he was too old for that kind of thing.

Because when he was in the eighth grade - when he was four years ahead of everyone else his age and somehow still _somehow_ not enough for his parents - and the first person he’d ever thought he could _trust_ told Eobard he was crazy. After all, “Everyone has imaginary friends, but no one convinces themselves they’re _real_.”

Because it was so much easier for them all to believe he was crazy than to listen to the constant plea. He just couldn’t put into words what he saw - who he saw, the same way they couldn’t understand that when he searched and searched for the right way to describe Him, his brain settled on _a man carved from fire_ on _an ethereal thing_ on _something_ _Other_ on _s_ _omething His._

God knew Eobard didn’t have enough things he could call his own.

It wouldn’t be until he was fourteen that he found out that _metahuman_ meant something other than _dangerous_. That it meant The Flash. And The Flash meant hope, and freedom, and safety.

Blue eyes closed.

(He blew himself up when he was sixteen.)

And woke again.

The first sensation was that of a kiss to his temple. soft and feather-light. It made the newfound lightning in him roar with an excitement he'd never known before. The there was an unexpected side effect: his waking had been joined by another sentience thrumming at the back of his mind, acting like an ambient noise; a TV left on in the other room. And after moment of apprehension, he recognized it for what it was. His Other.  _His Other._  

For the first time in a long time, Eobard Thawne felt happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, unbeta'd so please tell me if there are any mistakes :)
> 
> When Barry interacts with Eo's younger self it's like watching a living baby photo so he's probably smiling like a goofball which is a scene I'm now considering writing but what do you guys think?


	4. I think I'm dead, I think you killed me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This takes place almost immediately after Team Flash figures out Zoom is Jay/Hunter, when Barry runs to the ravine to have a good scream. Admittedly Eo feels a bit OOC during this, but I wanted him to be comfortable being vulnerable around his other and this was me learning how to do that.
> 
> Any suggestions and/or tips are greatly appreciated! And once again this hasn't been beta read so please let me know if anything's confusing or misspelt :)

Barry was screaming.  
  
Barry was screaming because he felt like a _goddamn_ fool falling for this charade all over again. He wanted to curl his fingers under Zoom’s mask and pull. So he could prove to himself that it really was Jay under that mask. Or maybe it was so he could prove that it wasn’t.  
  
But he couldn’t do that. So he was screaming himself raw. He was going to carve out his lungs and yell until his throat throbbed and he started coughing up blood. Maybe then the pain in his chest would be justified.  
  
The Speed Force had other ideas. It went over the damage he’d done with a touch softer than he deserved. Every physical wound Barry could hope to inflict was sealed before it had even begun to sting. All it meant was that by the time The Flash was doubled over, heaving for breath, bracing himself on his knees, his throat wasn’t even sore.  
  
He settled for the way his lungs burned as they gasped and gaped for much-needed oxygen.  
  
“I guess we’re both having shit days, huh?”  
  
The Flash whipped his head around to face the speaker. It took him by surprise, if mainly because he’d at least expected some kind of warning from Cisco’s meta alert. Next to him was Eobard Thawne, impossibly young, and standing a bit too close to the edge of the ravine for comfort. After a moment of processing, he came to the conclusion that this was not the time traveller he knew, but a result of their connection. A reflection of His Other, brought to him by the Speed Force. Perhaps it was trying to comfort him. Regardless, the fact Thawne was ridiculously tangible rather than the Speed Force’s usual blurry mess was concerning.  
  
His other’s cowl has been pulled back, blond hair a ruffled mess haloing a haggard face. Slowly, the younger man turned to look at the red-clad man, and Eobard’s gaze was full of a sorrow that confused him.  
  
“Are you going to keep pretending I’m not here _Flash_ or am I going to have to come over there and make myself apparent through other means?” Venom laced words, but they lacked a bite. Briefly, the speedster wondered what he did - or what he will do - to upset this barely teenaged version of his nemesis. The kid couldn't be older than eighteen.  
  
“What do you want me to say?” His voice must’ve been absolutely breathless, but The Reverse seemed to hear him.  
  
But judging by the rather sheepish look that suddenly flashed over his face, Thawne didn’t actually expect to get a response. Which meant he was picking fights. Barry filed that away for analysis; something was bothering his Other - something he was probably responsible for - and secondhand guilt compelled him to resolve the issue.  
  
Nonetheless, a silence fell, distorted only by the rushing of the waterfall below and The Flash’s ragged breathing.

Eobard opened his mouth, as if to speak, but hesitated, closing it again. Barry watched all this the way you would a predator. 

“I asked you a question, kid.” Turnabout's fair play. And he was itching to regain control of the situation. Though admittedly his other only looked a few years younger than he was, so perhaps calling him a kid was a bit much.

Thawne snarled and shot, “Do you hate me?” whipping around to face Barry head-on, before breaking eye contact a moment later, opting to stare pointedly at the rushing water below them. The brunette copied the motion, letting the roaring canyon wash over his next thoughts.

 _I love you,_  He wanted to say. _And I hate that I do. I would kill for you. And that terrifies me more than anything you’ve ever done. Because I just fell for the same damn thing twice because I was too busy praying it wouldn’t be the same this time because,_

“You killed my mother,” he said. _But I forgave you so long ago_ , he didn’t say. A quiet fell once again. This one was stifling, and awkward, and too full of unspoken words to be comfortable for either of them. 

The scarlet speedster cracked first, “Why are you so…” real wasn’t quite the right word here, but it was still fitting. Normally these connections were fickle things prone to impressions of feelings and shadows of shapes. But Thawne was standing there clear as day. “... _solid_?” he finished

It was like pulling a trigger. A Do-Not-Mention topic Barry hadn’t realized they were avoiding.

Beside him, The Reverse Flash choked out a half-swallowed sob, something he hadn't realized the boy was holding back. It immediately got Barry’s attention; no version of Eobard Thawne _cried_ and certainly not where his arch-nemesis could see him. Apparently, this was the exception, because there was the blond, tears streaming down his face, and a fist shoved in his mouth, desperately trying to keep down the noise he was making.

The yellow-clad speedster swallowed thickly, “I think I’m _dead_. I think you killed me. And that all this is some kind of twisted purgatory,” His voice hitched on those words, “I think the only reason I’m even here right now is because the Speed Force refused _to let me die_ and decided to fucking _swallow me whole_ instead _._ ”

The speedster didn’t know when he moved towards his Other, but he was pulling Eobard into his chest regardless, coaxing the blond to press his face into the crook of the brunette’s neck. He was almost surprised when his hands didn’t just go straight through Thawne. A shuddering sob followed the action, and Barry buried his nose into the mess of hair beside him. Arms wrapped around his waist. And the scarlet speedster began to gently try and comfort the other man for a crime he’d yet to commit. No part of him could believe that he’d try and kill the Reverse Flash - that he could kill anyone. Especially not  _his_ Eobard.

It appeared he had.

“I didn’t ask for this. I-” The blond cut himself off with a sob, “I don’t even remember how it happened… One moment you were there and the next it’s all just -” and he was gone, flickered in and out like a light. The startled gasp that hailed Eobard's return told him he had felt it too. Whatever this was it was fading fast. With a warbling voice Thawne looked up at him and said; “I think I’m _dying_ , Flash, I don't know how much longer it can keep me al- " a bone-deep pause, neither of them wanted to know what the wavering connection meant, "I don't know how much longer it can keep me here.”

Something like pity settled in his heart, before he made what was supposed to be a comforting noise. Gently, so as to not spook the fragile man, he reached up to cup wet cheeks, one at a time, before caressing his thumbs across the tear stains in some kind of attempt to be soothing. It seemed to work because, after the first startled jolt, there was no other protest. Eobard even seemed to lean into the touch as Barry wiped away the new tears spilling over wet lashes and reddened cheeks. They were like that for a few minutes, just easing themselves into the calming silence that Eobard’s sobs slowly dissolved into. 

"One of my friends just betrayed me," Barry started, "I thought the Speed Force sent you to comfort me," he laughed, the noise laced with nerves, drenched in fear, "But now I think it's the other way around..." he tucked his hand behind Eobard's ear, pressed his fingers into the hollow of his jaw, and prayed beyond hope that the shaking speedster in his arms could feel every ounce of love and happiness and adoration and contentment and admiration he felt for him. Prayed the Speed Force _let him_ feel it. Prayed the Speed Force sank him into it. Prayed Eobard could feel its depth. 

The bond between them was electric and alive. For a few miracle moments, Barry felt like he was Eobard, more Speed than man as he clawed at the last dregs of his humanity as this vengeful, angry God pulled him back together. The agony and betrayal ripped through him. He was struck by lightning again and-

Eobard surged forward with a wild intensity, gloved fingers greedily sinking into brown hair.

And suddenly Barry was a very different kind of breathless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thinking of doing something fluffier next, with Barry meeting a little bb Eo and sort of just melting bc,,, cutie. As always, I take requests and suggestions for this au!


	5. Burn Against My Lips

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry finds himself called into the middle of a rainy street by a storm. Eobard, it seems, has been beckoned by the same voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was originally supposed to be a smutty part, but only got this far. I may give this a part two to continue the idea, as I'd love to explore what level of intimacy their connection would give them during an already intimate event.

Lightning and a storm had coaxed Barry into the middle street. Some midnight beck and call induced by the drugish intoxication of the wobbling, weeping streetlights had lured him from the safety of his apartment and out onto the abandoned avenues of his City. He stood there, in the street, not knowing what he was here for. The umbrella held high above his head blanketed him in lit shadow, the harsh LED seeping through its fabric, complemented by the light lapping at the edge of his shadow - black puddle in a gold sea. 

Thawne had been there when he’d arrived. Thawne was always hiding in the corners of his vision. His presence was expected. 

Barry pays the visage no mind, just as likely a hallucination - trick of the light - as an afterimage of Speed. The man had stopped visiting him in proper after their encounter on Earth-X. 

And yet, the falsity speaks. “What  _ happened _ to you?” Eobard’s words fall from his mouth like cigarette smoke, thick and hot in the storm-damp air, slightly muffled by the rain. Absentmindedly, Barry wonders if the Speed Force was trying to warn him this man was  _ addictive _ , his own private nicotine, damnation in human form. It explains why he can’t stop think of how it felt to have his nemesis pliant and gasping beneath him, exhaling desperately into Barry’s mouth as his nails dig selfishly -  _ possessively _ \- into the brunet’s shaking shoulders. The memory haunts him even as he sleeps next to his  _ wife _ . 

As if he has not noticed Barry lack of answer, or perhaps to elaborate on his question, Thawne continues, “You’re  _ dripping _ with Speed Force,” and then, bitterly, “You always were their favourite. All  _ but _ speed incarnate. And even then…”

Barry turns to face the speaker, finally gracing Eobard with his gaze. The man stands at the edge of the light, a leather jacket pulled tight around him, gold hair wet with the rain, slicked back against his head.  _ Greaser _ is not supposed to be a word he associates with Eobard Thawne. 

He looks to be in his late twenties. Early thirties  _ maybe, _ but that was pushing it. The hickie sitting high on his throat lent itself to the former and he can practically hear the Speed Force whispering in his ear;  _ Bear monument to your sins _ . There is no doubt who left the mark. 

Barry is struck with the image of Eobard Thawne stumbling outside with the same pointless need to  _ wander _ that caught Barry in its arms not moments ago. The man - still flush in the afterglow of whatever coupling Barry and he had entertained - must have braved the judging eye of two-am dawdlers all to be scooped up and dropped centuries and miles and millennia away from home. The Speed Force is a cruel mistress like that. 

An obscene thought fills the Flash; if he slips careful fingers between Eobard’s lithe thighs, what will he find?  _ Wet skin _ , his mind answers,  mumbling but eager,  _ and a gaping entrance still fresh with the memory of my cock.  _

It wouldn’t be the first time. 

Eobard stutters closer to him, steps hesitant and light as he steps into the midnight glow, and he bathes in the gold like a God. Adoration sits heavy in the blonde’s eyes, and Barry realizes very concerningly that this Thawne still sees him as  _ Flash, the hero _ and not  _ Allen, the pariah _ . He has yet to shake the worship from his heart. It is yellowing, though, like leaves in fall, all but forsaken to the cold of winter. He can tell by the fear that drips from the  _ Reverse Flash _ .

How young is this man? How naive? 

“What happened to you?” Thawne asks again, voice soft as a midnight breeze. Or, perhaps more accurately, as soft as a lover’s sigh. Barry does not answer regardless. Does not move but to breathe. He stays cast under his own shadow; the protective shield that is his umbrella and the faux anonymity it provides. As if Thawne could not tell it was him from the very sound of his intake, from the chemical composition of his exhale. The Speed Force binds them and in turn, makes every evidence of existence a clue at a crime scene; a mythic fingerprint that calls out to the other in some desperate song intended to play at heartstrings. They were not made to be enemies. Where did it go wrong?

The Reverse coaxes himself closer, an unholy thing, eyes burning with undeserving reverence, something like  _ awe _ , something like  _ worship _ . He stands close enough for Barry to hear his breathing beneath the storm. The crack of lightning in the distance lights Eobard’s eyes. To come any closer will mean Eobard will have to duck under Barry’s umbrella and share in the shelter from the rain so eagerly abusing the blond at present. 

Barry wants to kiss him. To refresh the hickie under his jaw. To make  _ more _ marks over unmarred skin. To reclaim what is his birthright; this lovely Eobard Thawne. This man was a gift from the universe to Barry Allen, and Barry Allen, in turn, a gift from the universe to Eobard Thawne. Thawne was made  _ for _ Barry, and back again. Fearsome is creation with intent, and likewise, fearsome are The Flash and his Reverse. 

A shiver in the form before him, “Can I come in?” Thawne asks, referring to a spot in the rain under an umbrella at midnight, and not a house; warm and safe. It is Barry Allen’s space that he asks to enter. How lowly does this Eobard Thawne think of himself that he still questions the ownership of Allen that grants him the ability to stuff himself into every nook and cranny and vacant empty corner in Barry’s soul? Perhaps he thinks he is undeserving of a place beside  _ the Flash _ . 

Maybe he’s just being courteous, Barry, you melancholic fuck. 

Barry tilts the umbrella up, and cannot remember the last time he blinked as Eobard slips beneath its cover, features softer and expression warmer now that he is not cast in the unyielding glare of the street light. He is soaking wet. The rain rumbles around them for a moment. 

The Flash finds himself called to brush a damp clump of hair from Eobard’s face, and does not deny himself the pleasure of doing so. Eobard sighs at his touch, and catches his wrist before Barry can escape, pressing his face into Barry’s hand. He sighs again, breath tickling the thin stretch of skin over Barry’s wrist, and allows himself a full body shudder. Barry drinks in the sight, the sensation, like a man starved. 

_ He loves you _ . 

What a strange thing. 

He slips his hand further forward, fingers dipping into wet locks as Eobard shivers beneath his touch. He can tell by the shame budding in the other’s eyes that Eobard is trying to pass it off as the cold’s doing. What has been done to this man that he is ashamed of what his other half does to him? 

Barry pulls Thawne in close by the nape of his neck and bends over to bury his face in the crook of his shoulder, as if to comfort him. In the same motion, he inhales the musk of wet leather and sweat-slick skin, filing the scent of his  _ Eobard Thawne _ away in his memory. It matches the wet city, dry jacket feel that has pressed itself into the back of Barry’s mind. This is just another thing that will slide into bed with him as he curls up next to to the ever beautiful, ever  _ right _ , Iris West. 

Eobard makes a broken sounding noise, and Barry’s brief lull is overcome by pity. He moves his hand from the back of Eobard’s neck to the dip in his back, pushing gently, so, so gently, and Eobard allows himself to be slotted into the space created by Barry’s arching spine. He fits perfectly into the hollow there, and makes a low moan as he wraps his arms around Barry’s shoulders, hooking his fingers on the cusps of shoulder blades. 

There is nothing sexual about this. Not yet. The sound is one of completion, a feeling mirrored in Barry’s own chest. He leans up and kisses the bruise under Thawne’s jaw. Against it he breathes, “I did this.”

“ _ Yes _ ,” Eobard responds, and Barry grants him the dignity of pretending he'd been _asking_. 

“You belong to me.”

An answering rumble spills from Eobard’s lungs, deep and pleased and fulfilled in a way only Barry can make him feel. “And you to me,  _ Flash _ .”

Barry hums in agreement, and lets Eobard kiss him. His mouth opening before Eobard even makes the conscious decision to lean forward and slot their mouths together. It’s not a rabid battle, no dominance is involved here. They would be damned before they let their rivalry and hatred taint these precious moments between the divide. This is a gentle breath, trembling skin, supple curves, chapped lips, fluttering lashes,  _ living _ Speed. This was the press of open mouths are they shared in one another’s essence, emotions spilling into one another as the Speed Force curled between them, lazy arcs of lightning trailing after their wandering hands. 


End file.
